Longing3: The Sunset Road
by Befanini
Summary: COMPLETE All I have are the ashes... one small spark from your glow.
1. Prologue

**Title: Longing 3: The Sunset Road**

**Author: Befanini**

**Disclaimer: **I have absolutely no rights whatsoever. For melancholy daydreaming purposes only.

**Rating: **T for language. Shounen-ai.

**Summary: **"All I have are the ashes… one small spark from your glow."

**A/N: **Dedicated to Santuary of Darkness and mangamama for their invaluable help. You guys are the greatest. Thank you.

* * *

**Prologue **

"Loss as muse. Loss as character. Loss as life." – Anna Quindlan

XxXxX

He jolted awake, covered in cold sweat. Which was damn strange, considering he had fallen asleep with the windows open, and the room was freezing. Shivering, he jumped out of bed and quickly shoved the windows shut.

And stood there, transfixed, gazing out at the blood-red sun sinking in the horizon. Apprehension and a wild urgency gripped him, and inside him his heart twisted painfully. His head dropped against the window frame with a sharp crack. He slammed his eyes shut and gave a fierce shake of his head. No. God, _no_. He tasted blood, and realized that his teeth were clenched tightly on his lower lip.

And then he turned and bolted, and heaved his guts out.

… When the message arrived, summoning him to Kinzan Temple, he was long gone.

XxXxX

"If we must part forever,

Give me but one kind word to think upon

And please myself with, while my heart's breaking."

-- Thomas Otway

XxXxX

* * *

I want to walk into the light

Day has turned cold, so hold back the night

What will become of you and I

We had a dream, don't let it die

Just hold back the night

Do you want to be my dying day

My darkest hour

My overdose

Coz that's what you'd be

Just hold back the night

"Hold Back The Night", Sinead O'Connor


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

"Maybe all we can do is hope to end up with the right regrets." – Arthur Miller

* * *

XxXxX

He sat by the window, watching the road with faded purple eyes. Below him, in the afternoon sunshine, the monks' training reached his ears as if from a great distance. He shivered a little, absentmindedly pulling his robes closer around him; but even the bitter cold of winter failed to really touch him, to make any great impression.

His body was a mere shell, now more so than ever. Even in his prime he had had no great attachment to it, had always felt surprise and a faint irritation at the attention that his looks drew from everyone around him. Often when he had glimpsed his image he was mildly shocked to behold the almost-ethereal looking creature gazing back at him. The deceptively frail-looking, perfectly sculpted body, lean and strong; the shock of light hair the color of burnished gold; the pale skin that seemed to be made of moonlight; the face of a fallen angel… and those piercing violet eyes that belonged to a dead man. Only his eyes felt like they belonged to him. The rest seemed to be a mockery of how he really felt inside. The beautiful face concealing a wasted, tainted soul.

But a soul that was strong. Yes, even now. Now that his body looked more like a wraith than ever, his spirit shone through. Always he had been defiant, cursing even the gods, spitting at the path that life had chosen for him. Whatever the shackles that life had chained him with, his spirit remained rebellious and daring. _If I must live this life, then live it I shall… _and always on his own terms, nobody else's.

That was how he had always been. It had sustained him, when his world fell apart, that rainy night that his Master had died. That one night when he was literally rendered immobile, by the Master himself. Helpless against the binding spell that Koumyou Sanzo cast on him, he could do nothing but watch in horror as his world was stained crimson. That was the first and last time that anybody had held him against his will. That was when the fierce, independent spirit had fired within him. _From my birth to my death…_

Yes, even when he had found himself in that black abyss, that day so long ago now – when he had set out to fulfill the promise he had made to himself with all the ardor and passion of boyhood – even then he had been strong. Hell, in a perverse way it took a different kind of strength, a sick kind of courage, to take your own life. Anyone who said suicide was just cowardice didn't know shit. He had thought it back then, and he still believed it now. It took immense guts for any poor soul to forsake all hope, to give up all faith, to choose nothingness. He smirked, the perfect, cynical lips curling ironically. Such a fool he was back then, yes, a fool… but no coward. A strong fool, but never a coward.

* * *

"No coward soul is mine, no trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere." – Emily Bronte

* * *

Below him, the monks had long finished with their training and were now engaged in evening prayers. The fact dawned on him belatedly, fleetingly, but he was beyond such trivialities now. He had already chosen his successor, and that favored one even now was acting in his stead. The actual ceremony of passing on the title remained a mere formality waiting to take place. Waiting to take place when he…

He shifted, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Not yet. By all the gods who had never really impressed him, not god DAMN yet.

There was still time… some time yet, to remember. Yes, to look back, sitting in the shadows, in blessed peace and quiet, with the bakazaru away on the errand he had sent him.

Time to reminisce. It was all he had left, the memories. It actually surprised him now that not all of them were bitter. He had been so jaded, so young and foolish; and back then he saw life stretching out before him like a long, weary path that he had no choice but to tread.

How strange, to now find himself on the other side, and looking back with more fondness than resentment. How strange, to recall that he had actually laughed, and smiled, and enjoyed himself, despite it all. How strange to find that behind the cold mask he had worn all the years of his life… there beat a heart that had loved.

Yes, he loved them, after all. His companions on the journey, and later his lifelong friends. His family. He had loved them. He _loved_ them.

The infernally annoying creature who had been a constant thorn in his side from the first time he had called out soundlessly to him, and he had gone to answer the call of that wretched being rumored to be imprisoned in that cave for five hundred years… The innocent soul who was bound to him with invisible, unbreakable threads, with whom he shared a history that seemed older than time itself… He loved him.

The sinner with the gentle face, and the soft voice and the quiet smile and the kind nature… The healer without whose calming influence they would have all killed each other on the Divine Mission, so long ago… His friend, whom he read books with, argued philosophy with, and science, and theology, and all manner of subjects under the sun… The tragic man he had rescued and redeemed… He loved him.

Ah, and the bane of his life, from the moment the bastard had opened his door and those startling red eyes had branded him forever, and kindled an inferno in his soul that would _not_ be denied… The maddening rogue who had tortured and teased and tormented, all the long journey west, and made his life a living hell… and had shown him heaven on earth with a single earth-shattering kiss, that bleak and hopeless day… The redheaded rascal who inflamed him, whose unquenchable lust for life reignited the desire to go on inside his own heart.

The incorrigible, irreverent, tempestuous daredevil who was, perversely, his soul mate – with their defiance, with their arrogance, with their stubborn spirit that refused to cower in the face of all the bullshit that life threw their way… The Taboo child, who was his forbidden, secret passion… in whose arms he had capitulated with a force equal only in intensity to the fight and resistance he had put up at the beginning… He loved him.

And he needed him now. It was time. He needed them all.

The faded purple eyes, dim and clouded with age, shone softly in the shadows as they watched the road; the setting sun a ball of pulsing, liquid fire gently lighting the snow-covered path a golden hue.

_It was time._


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

XxXxX

"Absence is to love as wind is to a fire: it extinguishes the small and kindles the great."

– Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle." – Anais Nin

XxXxX

* * *

Ten years ago…

"Who is that stranger coming up the path?"

"Where?"

"There, walking up the road… you can't miss that red hair, surely?"

The Master looked, and nodded. "Ah. I forgot, you haven't been with us long, have you, Seichu…"

"Sensei?"

The Master turned to give orders for the others to meet the tall man and help him with his packs. And then he turned back to the young trainee beside him with a gentle smile.

"That, young one, is Gojyo-sama."

"Sonna…" Seichu turned awestruck eyes to the striking half-breed now greeting the monks with a brilliant grin. He turned back to the Master. "Sha Gojyo? Of the legendary—"

"That's him, alright!" Goku cut in, patting Seichu on the shoulder comfortingly. "Close your mouth. He's not _that_ great."

"OI! Bakazaru! You cheeky little…"

Gojyo had glimpsed the widely grinning Goku and was now walking swiftly over to their little group, a broad grin on his own face. He gripped Goku in a headlock, affectionately mussing his hair.

"Quit it, darn erogappa!" Goku scowled, twisting free. He stood glaring up at the kappa, with Gojyo grinning wickedly down at him. And then they moved at the same time, clasping each other in a quick, fierce embrace.

"Is Green-Eyes here yet?" Gojyo inquired, giving the wide-eyed Seichu a friendly nod, before the sensei drew the young man away.

"He should be arriving in a while," Goku replied, as they started off to Sanzo's quarters. "I was expecting you both to show up together, actually."

"Nah. By the time I got the message, it would have taken too long to double back and fetch our healer. Although I wouldn't have minded riding on Hakuryu instead of breaking my back hiking all the way up here."

"There are horses and mules for hire, you know."

"Eh, me and horses don't get along. If that had been our mode of transport back then, I would have quit flat out, Kanzeon Bosatsu or no Kanzeon Bosatsu."

"Yeah, yeah…" Goku mumbled as they drew near Sanzo's rooms. He turned to Gojyo. "I should probably warn you…"

"Heh. I know, I know…" Gojyo waved a carefree hand. "The hage bouzu is pissed as all hell… He always is." Gojyo shrugged.

"Uh-huh." Goku gave a polite knock on Sanzo's door.

"I don't want to be disturbed, Kaji, I told you," came an annoyed rasp from inside.

Goku raised his eyebrows at the kappa. The kappa grinned, and knocked again, louder this time. Without waiting, he opened the door and swaggered in, Goku beside him hiding a grin.

The figure seated at the desk clapped a hand to his face and dragged it down in exasperation. "K'so…"

"Now, now, Sanzo-sama… Is that any way to greet an honored guest you haven't seen in ten months?"

"Honored guest, my ass…" Sanzo growled, ignoring Gojyo and pinning Goku with a glare through his rimless spectacles. "You went ahead and disobeyed my orders, goddamn bakazaru…"

Goku flashed him a dazzling smile in reply. "Yup!" he beamed. "When have we ever missed having a double celebration?" He blinked owlishly at the livid High Priest, who stood up abruptly and walked swiftly over to him, still agile and ramrod-straight, despite his years. Goku yelped, and dashed behind an amused kappa.

"You still carry that lethal weapon on your person, hage bouzu?" Gojyo drawled, arching mocking crimson eyebrows.

Sanzo's hand, groping inside a sleeve, froze. He glowered, without looking at Gojyo. "Urusei… you want a taste of the harisen as well, goddamn erogappa!" he scowled.

"Hai-hai, Sanzo-sama!" Gojyo agreed cheekily. "Come to think of it, it's been quite some time since I've enjoyed the sting of a good, hearty whipping…"

"Baka!" Sanzo elbowed Gojyo away, turning irritated purple eyes to Goku. The monkey waited, biting his lip. Just then—

"Sanzo? Goku…." called a familiar voice from below.

"Hakkai!" Goku yelled excitedly, dashing off quickly with a great sigh of relief.

"Dammit…" Sanzo muttered, turning away to drop back down into his chair disgustedly, wincing slightly. "I _specifically_ stated that I wanted no fuss this year…" he continued to grumble, shuffling the papers on his desk irritably.

Gojyo sauntered over and perched himself on the edge of the desk, swinging a long leg casually. "Eh, you're still a goddamn selfish bastard, bouzu. It's my celebration, too."

"'Ch."

Gojyo leaned down to peer teasingly into stormy violet eyes. "Happy Birthday, Beautiful."

Sanzo snorted at this, his lip curling resentfully. "Baka…" he muttered, with a frown.

But it was true. Sanzo was still beautiful. The golden hair might have turned silver, but it was still silken-soft and abundant, the long layers still a declaration of defiance from the maverick monk. The creamy alabaster skin had some natural lines, perhaps, and it now looked even more delicate than before – paper thin, almost, revealing the fine network of blue veins beneath. And although he rarely went without his rimless spectacles now, the faded purple eyes were as sharp and keen as ever.

That was the key to Sanzo's beauty: his fierce spirit shone through so brilliantly. He still possessed the staggering charisma and authority that dazzled and blinded and left one speechless and reverent and awestruck. It was still all there in that steady, unflinching gaze from those ancient eyes in that ageless face.

For he still had the face of an angel.

Gojyo raised his eyebrows. "So modest, hage bouzu…" he drawled lightly, while the crimson eyes hungrily devoured every inch of that beautiful face. _How is it possible that I want you even more today than I did yesterday? How is it possible that those eyes still enslave me as much as they ever did? When will I ever get it through my head, that to see you is enough, to hear your voice is enough, to sit beside you is enough… to breath in the same air as you is enough… Ah, dammit to hell. It will never be enough._

Sanzo narrowed his eyes, finally meeting Gojyo's gaze for the first time. "You're still the cocky playboy, spouting your same old playboy bullshit," he muttered, denying the compliment verbally, even as he was rendered breathless by the uninhibited, unadulterated, undiminished worship and naked longing blazing from the beautiful scarlet eyes. _You goddamn fool. Goddamn you for showing up again, just as I managed to convince myself that I'm getting too old for this. Goddamn you for making my heart race, and my limbs weak, and my senses run riot… and my soul tremble with sheer yearning for you. Each time you go away I am shattered; and each time I almost manage to put myself back together you show up again and obliterate everything else with your fiery spirit. And yet… This is what I live for… this is what I've spent the past forty-five years living for. Fuck… I'm as much a fool as you are, damn erogappa._

Gojyo leaned back with a mighty effort of will, breaking the eye contact and walking away to stare out the window. "So… ready to celebrate your sixty-ninth, Sanzo-sama? You feel up to drinking me under the table?" Gojyo grinned, turning around.

And the smile faded from his face as he watched the monk throw his head back and swallow an assortment of pills. Suddenly gripped with a cold fear, he moved quickly to stand beside Sanzo, his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Oi. What the hell are those?" he demanded, all teasing gone from his voice.

"'Ch. None of your goddamn business."

Gojyo clenched his teeth, his jaw working, and then he reached out with a faintly trembling hand and gripped Sanzo's shoulder painfully, earning him a vicious, pained glare from evasive violet eyes.

"I _said_, are you sick, bouzu? Answer me!" he commanded in a shaky voice.

Sanzo shrugged him off with a mocking look. "What the hell do you expect, baka erogappa? This bastard is getting old," he rasped, standing up and motioning Gojyo to move away.

"Daijobou!" Gojyo whispered fiercely, standing rigid in front of him.

Sanzo sighed. "I'm fine, Gojyo. Just some vitamin supplements and heart medication, that's all. Move aside, will you…"

"FUCK!" Gojyo swore. "Heart medications!" he demanded heatedly, feeling his knees weaken. "Dammit, Sanzo, how long has this been—"

An impatient knock sounded at the door, before it was quickly pushed open by a widely grinning Goku, beside him a dear, familiar figure.

"Sanzo!" Hakkai cried joyfully, as he and Goku eagerly entered the room.

Sanzo finally side-stepped the rigid Gojyo and went to shake hands warmly with Hakkai, grinning ruefully. "Goddamn this monkey… I told him not to bother gathering everybody together this year…"

Hakkai laughed heartily, his smile genuine. "Maa, maa, Sanzo," he chided gently. "You say that every year, it's practically part of the tradition. Besides, it's Gojyo's celebration too, you know…"

"That's what I've been trying to get through his thick head," Gojyo scowled, taking control of himself with a mighty effort, and concealing his shock at what he'd just learned. It couldn't be… His heart rejected the idea, even as his mind rationalized that it was so. _There were only a few years left…_ "Still damned selfish as usual…" he drawled lightly, while inside him he screamed soundlessly.

* * *

XxXxX

"I have not withdrawn into despair,

I did not go mad in gathering honey,

I did not go mad,

I did not go mad,

I did not go mad."

-- Hoda al-Namai


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

XxXxX

"To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go." – Mary Oliver

"If you pressed me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than that he was he and I was I."

– Michel de Montaigne

XxXxX

* * *

Throughout that year's "celebration" – Sanzo's 69th and Gojyo's 68th – (which typically lasted through the night), Gojyo maintained an outward calm and joviality.

But while the others engaged in catching-up talk, he watched Sanzo with hooded eyes, already memorizing every last detail, every angle, every nuance, every last inch of the man who had been "home" to him for the past forty-five years. He never did settle down, he never quit his vagabond life, and Sanzo had long ago ceased to press him about it. He just wandered where the fancy took him, ever roaming, visiting and re-visiting old haunts – any excuse to fill up the time until the ache was almost unbearable, until the yearning was so ripe as to be almost sweet… and he returned to the only home he knew these past forty five years. Until he returned to his corrupt, beautiful, arrogant monk. His home… not Kinzan, strictly. Only because Sanzo was there. Sanzo was home. _Where the heart is…_

Gojyo watched as Hakkai, relishing every minute of his "bachelor" time away from his cozy nest of wife and the remaining child at home, poured himself another measure of sake, engaged in the usual animated discussion with a decidedly sober Sanzo.

Goku had fallen asleep hours before. The ikkou had the whole courtyard to themselves. The saru was sprawled back in his chair, the sumptuous feast having left a big grin on his face. Gojyo smiled fondly. Of all of them, Goku was the only one who seemed not to have changed, apart from his exposure to various cultures from his travels. He still had the insatiable appetite, he still slept like a log, he even looked the same. Forever young. Even the big golden eyes still retained the same innocence, the same childlike purity. He's going to outlast us all, Gojyo mused, with a trace of envy. Damn bakazaru is going to survive, and go on forever.

Whereas he… not that he was anywhere near old age, despite his being sixty eight. By half-breed standards, he was still in his prime, albeit he now had a few lines on his own face.

So did Hakkai. Glancing once more at his best friend, he felt a lonely pang in his gut at the thought that they shared the same silent pain. Hakkai had married a human, and the last time he had seen Sakura she had looked well and radiant and happy; but there was no denying that she was an old woman now, approaching her twilight years.

Like Sanzo…

Gojyo lit another Hi-Lite, blowing out the smoke lazily. He noticed that there were only three Marlboro butts among the heap in the ashtray. He also noticed that Sanzo had drunk the grand total of two cups of sake the entire evening. Hell, if it weren't for their "double celebration", he doubted if Sanzo would even have indulged himself.

His eyes drifted closed, feeling the hopeless anguish of this morning descend and surround him again. He felt… cheated, somehow. Out of the blue, it had risen up like a sucker punch, leaving him gasping for air. He couldn't fathom it, couldn't begin to get his arms around it… the idea of a world that continued to revolve, of life going on, without Sanzo.

His eyes opened, gazing once more at the human. So frail he seemed, all of a sudden. All too mortal. _So little time left…_

"Oi erogappa. You've been whining about how this is your celebration too. So why aren't you celebrating?" Sanzo cut into his morbid thoughts.

"Oh! That's right!" Hakkai exclaimed, leaning over unsteadily to top up Gojyo's cup. "Sumimasen, Gojyo… you should've just told me – there are plenty of bottles left…" Hakkai smiled. But the keen emerald eyes caught a flash of deep pain in the crimson orbs, before it was swiftly shuttered.

"Sankyuu," Gojyo drawled. "I didn't want to interrupt your talk just then. What is it this time, abstract art? Pointless philosophy? Mumbo-jumbo…"

"'Ch," Sanzo snorted, with a withering look. "It would do you good to exercise your brain sometimes, kappa."

Gojyo winked saucily and ignored him, pretending to listen while Hakkai enlightened him about the latest book he was reading – which he'd given a copy of to Sanzo for his birthday – The DaVinci Code. His present to Gojyo was a handsome leather jacket "for all his wandering about".

"What about you, Gojyo? Come to think of it, what did you give Sanzo this year?" Hakkai inquired, yawning from the sake.

Gojyo grinned. "The exquisite delight of my company, of course. My being here is the greatest gift anyone could want," he declared teasingly, waggling his eyebrows at Hakkai. Hakkai shook his head with a rueful grin; but as Gojyo turned to flash Sanzo a mocking smile, his breath caught at the raw feeling burning in the beautiful purple eyes.

_Bastard._

_But I speak the truth, don't I?_

_… Dammit all. You do._

_You're all I want, too. You're all I'll ever want. If I had a wish for every cold, distant, indifferent star up there in the heavens, all my wishes would come down to one thing: You._

_It's killing me. Forty-five years and it's still killing me._

_Fuck it all, hage bouzu, you're dying anyway. The light of my life is fading, and I'm powerless to stop it._

Sanzo frowned, and looked away. He leaned over, groping behind him, then straightened back up and tossed a small gift-wrapped package to Gojyo. Gojyo caught it easily, then pinned the monk with a quizzical look.

"'Ch. Open the goddamn thing and be done with it," Sanzo rasped in an embarrassed voice.

"Let's see! Let's see!" Hakkai said enthusiastically.

"Matte," Gojyo drawled, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a small packet. He placed it in front of Sanzo as well. The monk glared at him, his cheeks flushed. Hakkai looked from one to the other expectantly, oblivious to the undercurrents.

Gojyo shrugged. "Fine, I'll go first." He tore off the wrapping carelessly, making Hakkai wince. And then he stared at the object in his hands.

It was a keepsake box, the grains of the woodwork polished glossily, glinting in the light of the lamps. The lid opened with brass hinges, with a brass clasp. On the box's surface was inlaid a serene landscape: sunlight dappling through the canopy of tall trees… the trees marking out a path in the woods. His fingers caressed the surface softly, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak.

Hakkai leaned over. "Sandalwood," he breathed admiringly. "That will last you a lifetime, Gojyo."

Gojyo lifted his gaze and thanked Sanzo with his eyes. "The box is really from me and the saru," Sanzo muttered, "something he picked up in Italy." And then Sanzo looked away. "Open the box, baka," he said gruffly.

Gojyo did so with reverent hands. He looked inside, and closed his eyes. And then he started to chuckle.

"Nani? Nani!" Hakkai demanded, leaning close. Gojyo quickly shut the box and waved his hand, signing to Hakkai to wait.

"I can't believe it…" Gojyo sputtered merrily. "Did we go to the same guy?"

At this, Sanzo's eyes widened, and he quickly opened the package that Gojyo had set in front of him, being more meticulous about the wrapping, to Hakkai's approval. He drew away the last sheets of crackling tissue paper, and then sat back in disbelief. "I'll be damned…"

Hakkai impatiently grabbed away Sanzo's hands framing the object on the table, and caught his breath in pure delight. It was a miniature oil portrait of Sanzo, complete with the tiny frame. The artist had brilliantly captured the subject's exquisite beauty and forceful, charismatic authority.

Hakkai turned to Gojyo, burning with curiosity, and this time Gojyo let Hakkai flip the lid open on his box. Hakkai gasped as he revealed the identical miniature painting of Gojyo, with his taunting, mocking smile intact, and the red eyes smoldering out from the canvas. Even the frame was the same.

"Serendipity, that's what it is," Hakkai declared. "Incredible…" he mumbled, lifting up the two portraits and laying them side by side. And then he turned on the kappa and the priest. "You must tell me the name of the artist!" he begged. "This is the perfect present to give Sakura…"

Gojyo sighed, reaching inside his jacket once more. "I was gonna give this to you for Christmas, but what's a few weeks…" he drawled, tossing Hakkai another tissue-wrapped packet.

"Gojyo…" Hakkai breathed, overwhelmed. "Arigatou gozaimasu…"

Gojyo waved away the thanks with an embarrassed, foolish grin, and then both Gojyo and Hakkai stared as Sanzo gasped and chuckled and wheezed.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai inquired worriedly.

Sanzo shook his head. "Serendipity indeed…" he drawled, with a meaningful look at the bakazaru.

"You mean…?" Gojyo stared disbelievingly.

"You think I should give him his Christmas present now, as well?" Sanzo raised golden eyebrows mockingly.

Gojyo collapsed in a fit of merriment, while Hakkai blinked. "Sonna!"

* * *

XxXxX

The next week, when Sanzo remembered his birthday gift and wanted another good look at it, it was gone. What he had instead was the portrait of Gojyo, and a small note on the back. He adjusted his spectacles, and read.

" _'We must embrace pain, and burn it as fuel for our journey.' – Kenji Miyazawa._ You better take good care of yourself, hage bouzu. I expect to torment you for at least another 20-30 years. Many happy returns, Beautiful. Cheers – Gojyo."

XxXxX

* * *

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." – Emily Bronte

XxXxX

* * *

**A/N**: Chapter 4 next week! Damn, but this is difficult to write… And I don't mean technicalities; I mean, I can't bear the thought of any of the ikkou fading away… This (Longing 3) is all already mapped out in my head, down to the last scene. But somehow my fingers refuse to obey my brain when I start to type… Somebody tell me that none of this is REAL! XD 


	5. Chapter 4

October 16, 2005

**Chapter 4

* * *

**

XxXxX

My life closed twice before its close,

It yet remains to see

If immortality unveil

A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,

As these that twice befell.

Parting is all we know of Heaven,

And all we need of Hell.

-- Emily Dickinson

XxXxX

* * *

When he had secretly switched the portraits back, so that they each had the original painting they had commissioned in the first place – when he had taken Sanzo's likeness and left the High Priest his own – that was when his wandering days ended.

Haunted by the merciless, relentless passage of time, he abandoned his traveling and limited himself to frequenting the nearest towns and villages surrounding Kinzan. Gradually he established "residences" in these places; whether a modest, "permanent" room at a village inn, or a semi-comfortable apartment of his own at the fairly big towns.

He still roamed, his restless spirit – now made more restless than ever – refusing to give him any peace. But now he made sure to keep within two or three days' travel from the Temple, ready to go at a moment's notice.

Yes, he was paranoid.

He'd tasted unbearable loss twice before – no, three times in all. The first when his stepmother's blood sprayed his shirt; and damn if he didn't still recall the irrational thought that had crossed his young mind as he stared numbly at the blood: _And so it is red, too; and how lucky you cannot see it anymore, or you might have gone insane to think that this red stuff was pumping INSIDE your veins the whole time. You could crush the flowers under your white, delicate foot – you could tear at my hair and scratch my eyes out – but how could you have escaped from your own blood?_

The second loss came immediately after: when, with his eyes still wide with horror, gazing down stupidly at the woman for whose love he had so yearned – his big brother, strong and silent Jien, had grabbed him by the hand and told him to go. He had raised pleading, puzzled eyes to the only anchor he had ever known, and Jien had hugged him fiercely and shoved him away, running in the opposite direction himself. _We have no choice now… You have to be strong, brother. Perhaps we'll see each other again, someday…_

And when they had met, they had stood on opposite sides.

The third loss was just as inevitable, just as abrupt, and just as cruel. No – it was more than that. The third loss was damn downright funny – to have held his dream in that instant; that their souls should have embraced all-too-briefly… and then the wrenching, unbelievable pain of having to let go. Had they never come together, he might have borne it better. He might have gone on living in hope. Hopeless hope perhaps, but he could have kept his dreams.

But having tasted the reality… having the reality shuddering in his arms, scorching his flesh, drowning his senses… dazed, captivated, entangled, inflamed… having shared that one moment of rapture – that made all the difference. That rendered everything else drab, colorless, meaningless.

To have _bathed_ in Sanzo, and then to grit his teeth and close his eyes and set him free – Ah, now _that_ loss was so excruciatingly exquisite, it was almost a pleasure. The kind of sick pleasure that sadists who mutilated themselves exulted in. Much like the first puff of that cigarette when you've been smoke-free for so long.

But _this_ loss… this impending doom – there was nothing bittersweet about it. Nothing remotely funny in its promise of grim finality. The hours and the days and the months passed, the sun rose and it set, and each second ticked by, counting down… Unforgiving time marched forward relentlessly, and there was no turning back. He was going to lose Sanzo, and this time it was absolute.

No more could he look forward to the anticipation of making the trek up the mountains. No more could he enjoy the simple pleasure of buying his corrupt monk his cigarettes and his sake; of dreaming about that split-second before their eyes met on his arrival, when Sanzo's unguarded eyes let him see the terrible hunger in the purple depths… the yawning, utter yearning that he himself felt, the longing that had sustained him all these years.

No more would they sit together in seeming companionship, while between them burned the awful, unabating desire and heat that they struggled – and mostly succeeded – to keep banked. No more would their gazes do the talking, as, with one fleeting glance, they came together in a fierce onslaught of raw, blazing emotion, with their eyes caressing and stroking and kissing across the physical distance that circumstances had imposed between them.

No more would he be blissfully shocked and exquisitely rendered helpless, at those very rare moments when sanity and self-control failed, and they ended up in each other's arms, in the darkness and the moonlight and the shadows, murmuring, breathless, gasping, desperate, shuddering and intense and so greedy for each other that the brief encounter of mad frantic kisses and passionate caresses and possessive embraces inevitably left bruises and marks that Sanzo had always cursed him for.

No – in just a little while, there would be nothing left to wish for, nothing left to dream, nothing left to look forward to. In just a little while he could only look back at those precious moments, those precious few moments, and drive himself mad with the knowledge that it had never been enough in the first place… And in just a little while all he would have left was the certainty. It never _was_ enough. And it never will be. Ever again.

He stopped walking, gasped, and clutched his gut. He doubled over and emptied his stomach again, sweating and shaking and cursing. And then he walked forward a few more paces, and sank down against a tree by the side of the road, uncaring of the heavy drift of snow all around. He drew out a crushed pack of smokes and his old, battered Zippo, and lit up, inhaling fiercely, welcoming the searing sensation of the smoke in his lungs. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. Just a few hours' rest. Just a few more goddamn hours to delude himself and pretend that everything was just fine. A tanned hand reached up and pressed against his chest, where the miniature oil portrait of Sanzo rested in an inside pocket against his heart.

He opened his eyes, and stared up at the dear, familiar, snow-covered trail up the mountains. His vision blurred.

_I'm coming, bouzu. As I always have. Please wait for me. I'm coming.

* * *

_

XxXxX

They say that 'time assuages' –

Time never did assuage

An actual suffering strengthens

As sinews do, with age –

Time is a test of trouble,

But not a remedy –

If such it prove, it prove too

There was no malady.

Emily Dickinson

XxXxX

* * *

**A/N:** This is killing me. This is really killing me. A few more chapters to go… Have had to do a bit of research to get the last part accurate. As always, check my profiles page for replies to your great reviews, okay! Grazie!

'Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail.' - Theodore Dreiser


	6. Chapter 5

October 20, 2005

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"I would die like a true-blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning – organize."

Joe Hill

"Take away love and our earth is a tomb." – Robert Browning

* * *

XxXxX

He forced himself to walk the last few steps up the mountain. The Temple loomed before him – and whereas before the sight of it had always thrilled him, made his heart pound with the knowledge that his corrupt monk was waiting inside – this time all he felt was an incredible weariness… of his body, of his heart, of his soul. _The last time…_

The High Priest, Sanzo's successor, was waiting to receive him. He spoke in hushed, respectful tones. "This way, Gojyo-sama. Grand Reverend Sanzo has been waiting for you."

"The others… is Hakkai here?" Gojyo forced out, suddenly hit by a wave of weakness. Coward! he cursed himself. Stop being so selfish! The hage bouzu needs you now…

"Yes, Hakkai-sama is here. So is Goku-sama, of course. He wants no one but the three of you with him now," the monk replied, compassion in his voice. The two other attendant monks with him bowed their heads. "Come," the successor said again, leading the way.

As they walked the halls to Sanzo's quarters, Gojyo could hear the temple's monks chanting solemnly. The whole temple seemed to be praying, even the buildings and trees themselves. Praying, and watching, and waiting… incense hung heavy in the air. It was almost sunset.

They stopped in front of a familiar door. The next Toa knocked respectfully, then stepped back. "Please, Gojyo-sama," he invited soberly, gesturing with an open palm to the closed door.

Gojyo stood stock-still for a few moments, then drew in a trembling breath. He nodded his thanks to the three monks. They bowed low, and walked away. He watched them go, then gripped the doorknob with icy fingers, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He closed his eyes, and heard an echo in his head. _Sanzo…_

And then he opened his eyes and turned the handle, and went in.

* * *

XxXxX

A year ago…

"OI! That's ENOUGH, dammit!" Gojyo scowled and tried to pry away the fresh cigarette from Sanzo's fingers, glaring accusingly at the High Priest.

Sanzo arched a mocking eyebrow, clamped the Marlboro to his lips, and lit up. He exhaled, then squinted through the smoke at the visibly upset kappa, who was breathing harshly.

"You goddamn bouzu!" Gojyo spat, leaning back in his chair disgustedly. "I swear you're doing it on purpose just to annoy me!" he accused, looking down pointedly at the overflowing ashtray between them.

It was one of his regular visits, and they were drinking together far into the night, as usual. Since that day nine years back, when they had celebrated his 68th and Sanzo's 69th, his visits to the temple had been at regular intervals. Sometimes he came every month, sometimes every other month. And always Sanzo cursed him and chewed his head off, ranting about his Marlboros and his sake – or the lack of them.

Gojyo had slackened off bringing the contraband to Sanzo after the scare he'd had, discovering the High Priest's health problems. The first time he'd visited again, just after the New Year, he'd arrived empty-handed, and nearly got a bullet in his head, with the monk demanding where his goddamned smokes were. In the end they'd sent Goku down to the nearest town to get some.

It turned out that a few months before that particular winter, Sanzo had a minor scare with chest pains and difficulty breathing. The doctor had come, prescribed heart medications, and advised the monk to quit smoking.

He had tried, and nearly lost his mind. Still, the warning had stayed with him, and every time he swallowed down his medicine he was reminded that his body was getting old, and he wasn't helping it any by continuing to smoke.

But continue to smoke he did, the habit having been with him for too long. He did quit chain-smoking, though, and usually only lit up after meals, and when he sat in the courtyard with his sake watching the moon, just like Koumyou Sanzo had done before him all those years ago.

And so Gojyo continued to bring his corrupt monk his cigarettes and his sake, but he brought significantly less of it. He knew it made no difference, as Sanzo always sent Goku to buy what he lacked; but at least he was doing his part. He knew he was fooling himself, but he had no choice. Sanzo had threatened to refuse admission to Kinzan if he ever came empty-handed again.

Bullshit, of course. But he played along. What the hell – he was too damn preoccupied with desperately making the most out of whatever time they had left… with whatever time Sanzo had left. If his corrupt monk insisted on smoking, he was not going to argue.

But this night was different – for the past nine years he had watched with approval as Sanzo exercised that supreme self-control and limited his smoking and drinking to "permissible amounts". Which usually meant five or so sticks a day, and no more than a bottle of sake on the days that he felt like it.

But tonight… tonight the High Priest drank and chain-smoked in an alarming fashion, going through the entire month's supply that Gojyo had brought in just a few hours. It was like Gojyo had stepped back in time to the old days, when Sanzo had been the only man who could match him smoke for smoke, beer for beer, and sake for sake. The High Priest seemed like a possessed being… and the strange thing was, that even after a dozen bottles between them and a few whole cartons of cigarettes, Sanzo was sober as a judge.

"In any case, that's your last stick," Gojyo continued to scowl, picking up the empty Marlboro carton and crushing it mockingly. "Hah! So you can't light up any more now!" he taunted.

"Says who, baka?" Sanzo drawled. "You have plenty left in your pack," the monk informed him, tapping out the contents on the table. "Count it. Five for you, six for me," Sanzo mocked.

Gojyo narrowed his eyes. "Whatever the hell happened to 'your brand is shitty' you goddamn bouzu!" he glared.

"'Ch. Beggars can't be choosers." Sanzo shrugged, dragging deeply on his smoke.

Gojyo stared, speechless. And then he exploded. "Dammit, Sanzo! This isn't fucking funny! Are you fucking trying to kill yourself?" he demanded, banging his fist on the table.

Sanzo turned cool, faded purple eyes to him. "I'm dying, Gojyo," he replied simply.

Just like that.

Direct.

Stark.

And for the first time, uttered out loud. What they had both been avoiding since the day of the paintings.

Mortality.

Gojyo, lounging back lazily in his chair, suddenly doubled up, feeling like he had been rammed in the stomach. Sanzo watched him with detached, unfathomable eyes. Gojyo slowly met his eyes, then winced and looked away, feeling stabbed. "Don't…" he whispered hoarsely. "Don't, Sanzo…"

"Urusei," Sanzo said softly. "It's the truth, and you know it," he rasped in a cruel echo of those words, so long ago. "It has to be faced. My heart is failing. I don't have a year left."

"Damare!" Gojyo cried, pushing his chair back from the table and leaping to his feet. The chair crashed to the pavement of the courtyard with a loud clatter, the sound startling in the deep night. Neither of them cared. Gojyo stood over Sanzo, trembling, his fists clenched. "_Damare…_" he repeated, a haunted look in the crimson eyes staring desperately down into unflinching violet orbs.

And then Sanzo spoke, gazing sadly up at him. "Hush, kappa…" he whispered in that commanding, impossibly beautiful voice. The only part of him that had not changed an iota. "_Hush… it's alright."_

And Gojyo crumbled to his knees, and Sanzo gathered him close, and Gojyo laid his head in the High Priest's lap. Sanzo crushed out his cigarette, and the ivory hands, now delicate and bone-fragile with age, softly stroked the beautiful red hair. "Hush…"

Gojyo wrapped his arms around Sanzo's waist fiercely, and he let the tears fall. He shuddered and clung and wept unashamedly, his tears staining the gold-cream robes.

"I—I can't—" he gasped, shaking his head wildly.

"You can, kappa."

"NO! I won't let you! You can't—I can't—"

"Hush," Sanzo said again, his voice steady. But the hand caressing the silken hair trembled. "It's alright."

Gojyo wanted to scream, but he swallowed his cries and raised his head up instead, burning with the need to make his declaration. "How can you die, Sanzo? How can I go on, when I lo—"

"Urusei." As he had done before, a million yesterdays ago now it seemed – Sanzo pressed cool porcelain fingers against Gojyo's lips. "Don't."

Gojyo shook free, grabbing the frail hand and pressing it against his face, palm to cheek. "Why the hell won't you let me say it, Sanzo?" he begged hoarsely. "Not once, all these years…"

Sanzo closed his eyes and released a shuddering sigh, his hand instinctively, hungrily, caressing the still-firm, proud, tanned face. He shook his head. "Don't you get it, kappa? It will kill me…" he rasped raggedly. "I would rather the pure, blinding, brilliant promise, than the bittersweet harsh reality…"

Gojyo stared up with liquid eyes. "Even after all this time?" he demanded in a pained voice.

"Even then," Sanzo replied, and opened his eyes. The faded purple depths gazed down softly at the kappa. "Gomen, Gojyo… I know not saying it is killing you, too," he admitted softly. "But it won't be long now. You'll be free of the burden soon."

"FUCK!" Gojyo swore, letting go of the hand cupping his cheek to grasp the armrests of Sanzo's chair, pinning Sanzo back. "Don't fucking talk that way! It's my goddamn life, and my goddamn choice! You're NOT a fucking burden…" he whispered brokenly, his head dropping back down into the priest's lap. "Damn you, you bastard," he choked.

Sanzo threaded his fingers through the silken crimson hair and stroked Gojyo's scalp as the kappa sobbed again, the gentle caress shattering him as much as all the heated, stolen kisses they had shared fleetingly in the past. They stayed that way for some time, all the pent-up longing and fear and heartache pouring out of Gojyo in a cathartic torrent of cleansing, purifying tears.

Sensing that the storm was clearing, Sanzo cleared his throat. "Oi. Erogappa," he said gently, brushing the hair back off Gojyo's tear-streaked face.

Gojyo drew in a shuddering breath and gazed up at him, the crimson eyes devouring every inch of his face, taking a picture to store in his heart.

Sanzo let his eyes memorize the wickedly handsome face as well, before he gently pushed Gojyo's head back down and away to the side. "I want three promises from you," he forced out through the knot in his throat.

After several torturous heartbeats, Gojyo forced himself to ask, his arms tightening around Sanzo's waist. "Nani?"

"I want you to go on," Sanzo stated, gazing out into the darkness. Gojyo's head shifted in his lap. His hands tightened painfully in the crimson hair as he extracted his pledge. "Promise me. None of the _atooishinjuu_ bullshit. You hear me?" he demanded, pulling none-too-gently on the hair threaded through his fingers.

Despite himself, Gojyo grinned through his tears. His corrupt monk knew him so well, too. Just like he'd sensed Sanzo's intentions that day in the woods, when Sanzo had left without warning, intending to take his life – Sanzo knew that Gojyo might go down the same road. _Atooishinjuu_, suicide after the death of your beloved. And Sanzo had seen through him, before the idea had even manifested, and intercepted it. As shrewd as ever. As arrogant as ever.

Well, Sanzo had listened to him back then. And had kept his promise. Who was he to deny his corrupt monk anything?

"I hear you. You have my word," he replied huskily, his voice solemn with conviction. He looked up again at Sanzo. "I promise, Sanzo." And then he reached up and traced an X-mark over the monk's heart, in bittersweet echo of Sanzo's commitment that day, so long ago now. "_I promise_."

And just like Gojyo had done before, Sanzo slammed his eyes shut, and cursed softly, obviously remembering too.

"Number two?" Gojyo asked softly, his eyes still trained on Sanzo.

Sanzo opened his eyes and sighed before replying. "Watch over Goku," he requested, pain in his voice. Gojyo understood. In quite a different way to his own overwhelming passion, Goku worshipped the High Priest completely with a pure, childlike devotion. And it broke Sanzo's heart to think of leaving the innocent bakazaru bewildered and bereft and possibly wild with grief. "If the goddamn Seiten Taisei should ever be released, and without me to reign him in…" Sanzo let the words trail away.

"I understand," Gojyo said huskily, aching for Sanzo, and aching for Goku. The two of them shared something that not even he with his overpowering feelings for the monk could ever begin to fathom. "As long as I have breath in my body, I'll watch over the bakazaru," he promised.

"Arigatou, Gojyo," Sanzo sighed wearily above him. He had never expected it to be this fucking _hard_. Death he could deal with – it was the ones he would be leaving behind who were tearing him apart. "I've asked Hakkai too, of course, but you know he has his wife and family to think of…"

Gojyo straightened up and impatiently dashed off his tears with the back of his hand. "Wait a minute. You've already _talked_ with Hakkai!" he demanded, stung.

Sanzo smiled down softly at him, brushing his knuckles against a proud, tanned cheek. "Hai. Don't go and sulk because of it. You have to admit, he's a lot more rational and cool-headed than you've been so far," Sanzo chided gently.

Gojyo frowned, and then nodded slowly, accepting the truth of the statement. It was true – Hakkai was bound to take this _discussion_ a hell of a lot more calmly that he was doing at the moment. But then Hakkai was not in love with Sanzo. Hakkai did not love the High Priest with such intensity that it hurt to breathe.

Before Gojyo could jealously demand what else they had talked about, and when they'd had their little discussion, Sanzo spoke again.

"And lastly…"

"Lastly?" Gojyo blinked.

"I want you to promise me…" Of course. The third promise.

"Tell me," Gojyo prompted, sure he had no power to deny Sanzo anything he asked. He nestled his head once more into Sanzo's lap. And so he missed the glint of tears glimmering in the beautiful purple eyes staring hungrily down at him.

"I want you to be happy, kappa," Sanzo whispered huskily. "I want you to quit this goddamn useless wandering. I want you to find yourself a nice young woman, get married, and settle down, and have little brats terrorizing you and driving you mad. I want you to be happy," Sanzo repeated firmly, even as his voice cracked.

Gojyo slammed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his lip, feeling his soul bleed. He shook his head from side to side, unable to reply.

"You _must_ promise me, Gojyo," Sanzo insisted, the tears spilling over and running silently down his withered, lined face. "All those things I never had… we both never had… you must promise me. _Be happy…_"

Gojyo choked. _You fucking monk. Damn you. You know all my happiness goes when you go. Damn you! … I thought you'd given up on the idea… Damn you…_

"Gojyo!" Sanzo said fiercely, forcing his head up.

Gojyo stared into the amethyst eyes for an eternity, and then he whispered brokenly.

"I promise."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell." – Edna St. Vincent Millay

* * *

XxXxX

"And so how now, hage bouzu? All I have are the ashes, one small spark from your glow…"

He grinned lopsidedly, but it was more of a grimace. He carefully deposited the small urn into the ground, together with the miniature oil painting of himself, as Sanzo had requested. And then he leaned back on his knees and raised his face to the heavens, fighting to control the tears that had been his constant companions for the past week.

He lost. He collapsed in a heap beside the tiny grave, under the shade of the great tree where he had made love to his rogue priest so long ago. He'd thought he was empty. He'd thought he'd cried all the tears there were to cry. He was wrong.

"SANZO!" he cried out, throwing his head back, desperate to escape the utter blackness that threatened to swallow him whole. The grief-filled howl echoed through the trees, as Sanzo's scream had echoed long ago.

And then he composed himself with a shuddering sigh, and set out to accomplish what he had come here to do.

* * *

XxXxX

When the time had come, the tide had gone out easily and painlessly for Sanzo after all, despite all their fears. For their arrogant, implacable leader, the end had come as naturally and as peacefully as sleep.

He'd thought he was prepared, as he took a deep breath and opened the door. He'd hoped he was strong enough to give the others strength… to give his Sanzo strength.

He was barely able to breathe.

Sanzo was in bed, and the very sight of him rocked Gojyo to the core. It was almost as if he had already gone. He looked like a wraith, he looked like pure spirit there under the covers as Hakkai read to him softly from a book of haiku.

"Yuku ware ni  
todomaru nare ni  
aki futatsu."

_I go;  
Thou stayest:  
Two autumns._

How fitting, though Hakkai didn't know it.

Goku was in a chair on the other side of the bed, holding Sanzo's hand, his still-boyish cheek resting against the frail hand that he gently stroked, the innocent golden eyes never leaving Sanzo's face.

Hakkai looked up as Gojyo softly closed the door and walked over to the ikkou, now gathered together for the last time. The healer closed the book, and murmured to Goku. Hakkai placed his hand over Sanzo's forehead with a soft smile, and then they left the room quietly, Hakkai stopping beside him to inform him softly, "He's been waiting for you."

The door closed, and Gojyo found himself alone with Sanzo. He forced himself to walk the rest of the way to the bed, and sat down in the chair that Hakkai had vacated. He felt like he was sleepwalking, like he was moving in a dream… he felt like he was someone on the outside, watching himself as he softly picked up the frail, white hand and finally met the piercing stare of the beautiful, faded violet eyes.

"I'm here, bouzu," he choked out, blinking hard to stem his tears.

"No shit, baka," Sanzo rasped, surprising a chuckle from him. "I thought you might have chickened out on me."

"Yamero, Sanzo…" Gojyo said fiercely. "I've made the trek up those goddamn mountains a thousand times. Why should I fail to come now?"

They gazed at each other for a long time, feeling as though time hung suspended. Even now it did not seem possible. How could the longing be so great? And how could either of them ever find release? It seemed not even death, the ultimate end, could make any difference at all.

Sanzo broke the silence. "I've left my books to Hakkai…" he whispered. "And the AnEx to the bakazaru…" He laughed weakly. "I'm afraid that a Sanzo-Houshi hasn't much to give away, living the austere life that is demanded of us…"

"Urusei, hage bouzu," Gojyo whispered gruffly, feeling his heart break and splinter into a million shards. "Just shut the fuck up…"

"I'm afraid all I have to leave you is the banishing gun…"

Gojyo shook his head fiercely.

"But only if you keep your promise… the last bullet stays where it is…"

_Atooishinjuu._

Gojyo clenched his teeth, and nodded. Sanzo sighed and closed his eyes.

'I want something else," Gojyo said, brushing back silken strands of hair from Sanzo's eyes with trembling fingers.

"Nani?" Sanzo rasped, without opening his eyes.

"I want the miniature. They belong together," Gojyo requested in a shaky voice, even as his mind screamed at him. It was almost time. _Feast your eyes now, kappa._ It was almost time.

"Iie. It goes with me," Sanzo denied, his voice now barely audible, so that Gojyo had to lean close. "I've instructed Hakkai. Talk to him. It's all taken care of," Sanzo forced out, his breathing shallow.

Gojyo watched him helplessly, caught between terror and horror and anguish… and unbelievable, heartwrenching tenderness. It was the tenderness that broke him. Despite his fierce vows to himself, he fell apart.

"Sanzo…" he gasped, his hand tightening forcefully on the priest's hand, as if his doing so would tether Sanzo's spirit to his body. "I can't bear this, I can't—"

Sanzo opened his eyes, and once more his voice was strong and commanding as he sought to comfort the kappa, to ease Gojyo's pain. "You _can _bear it, Gojyo. And you will. … Because you love me."

Red eyes collided with violet.

Time stood still.

Sanzo had finally said it. Sanzo had said it _for_ him.

Gojyo shuddered, amazed at the lacerating pain that the moment produced in his soul. His very fingertips ached.

_At last_.

"Now _go,_" Sanzo rasped weakly. "Go, you fool. And send the bakazaru in. Just him. I want to be alone with Goku…" he requested, fighting back tears. He'd thought he was ready to go. Arrogant, stupid bastard. He'd promised himself no tears. He'd thought he was ready… But nothing in the world could have prepared him for this.

Gojyo stood up and leaned over carefully and touched his lips to Sanzo's forehead for a long, lingering moment. "I love you, Sanzo…" he whispered achingly, drawing back slowly, letting the words wash over him, over them both, as he struggled to contain his own tears.

Beneath him, Sanzo lost the fight, the tears overflowing and spilling down as his eyes closed, letting the declaration pierce his heart and echo in his soul and saturate his whole being. _I love you. _"GO, you fool…" he hissed fiercely.

Gojyo bent down again and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss on his lips for the last time. "Jamatane, hage bouzu… God be with you," he whispered brokenly, and then he turned his back and forced himself to walk away.

Lying down in the bed, barely able to feel his body anymore, Sanzo sighed. _Jamatane._ Not sayonara, but see you soon. _Until we meet again._

Gojyo was almost to the door, when Sanzo's voice halted him.

"Oi. Erogappa."

Gojyo froze.

"Remember your promise."

_Atooishinjuu. _Bloody hell.

But Sanzo surprised him. "Be happy…" the monk rasped, his voice weak but the tone commanding.

Gojyo felt his heart clench tight. Dammit. Fuck it all… He nodded, and gripped the doorknob.

"Kappa."

Gojyo dropped his hand and clenched his fists, certain of what was to come, and suddenly unsure if he could bear it, after all. He turned slowly, and saw Sanzo through the veil of tears blurring his vision. His heart thundered in his chest.

"_Aishiteru_…" Sanzo said hoarsely.

The tears spilled over.

His heart stopped.

And then he bowed his head, humbled, overwhelmed, and unable to breathe.

"Go," Sanzo commanded, and he went without looking back, pulling the door shut softly behind him.

* * *

XxXxX

* * *

And so it was done. 

He wrenched his eyes from the door where the maddening, intoxicating rascal had exited, and he heaved a great sigh. The weary purple eyes drifted out the window to gaze at the day's close, the shadows now lengthening. That chapter was ended at last.

And he had only a page or two to go…

The door opened, and the final character entered. The bakazaru. Torment and burden of his life. _Goku._ Even at this moment, feeling the life ebbing from his mortal flesh, he could not fathom how it would be to be separated from this pure soul… this innocent creature who seemed to have been a part of him forever.

Gojyo he loved fiercely and totally as he had loved no one in his life, and that love had given him the strength just now to say goodbye.

Whereas Goku… it seemed their bond went beyond the bounds of time itself. Their connection was almost… holy; and it tore him apart what this goddamn inconvenient mortal death must be doing to the stupid monkey.

He hated feeling powerless.

Goku approached him slowly, but without hesitation. In a bizarre twist of fate, it was now Sanzo who needed reassurance from the youkai.

And Goku surprised him by giving it.

"Goku, listen to me…" he began, summoning up the last of his will and strength to somehow make the monkey understand.

"Shh, Sanzo, it's okay. Don't talk anymore," Goku said, clear-eyed, his voice strong.

Sanzo frowned. "I said, listen to me, you goddamn fool," he rasped weakly.

But Goku went over to the window and pushed the shutters wide open, letting in the blazing light from the sinking sun. He walked over back to Sanzo and sat down on the bed. He took one of Sanzo's hands in his own, and with the other he softly stroked Sanzo's hair.

"Look, Sanzo," Goku said, gesturing to the brilliant sunset. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, his voice tremulous with wonder and with hope. "That's _you_, you know. No matter what you say. You've always been my sun," he whispered gently, leaning down to press a boyish cheek against the monk's forehead.

"Urusei, bakazaru…" Sanzo rasped, his voice breaking. Goku ignored him.

"And that's why I know it's going to be all right. Because the sun never really goes away. It sets, it goes to sleep, maybe, but tomorrow it will rise again."

"Baka…" Sanzo murmured, gripping Goku's hand with his last strength. "It's… not that simple… you stupid… monkey…" he whispered desperately.

"But it _is_, Sanzo," Goku told him with pure certainty. "As sure as I'm alive. _I know._ You'll come back to me… as you already have."

With immense will, Sanzo turned his head and met the large golden eyes, voicing the question with fading purple eyes, unable to summon up the breath to speak anymore. Goku smiled at him confidently, his expression pure and truthful.

"We were together, long ago… and then we weren't together. And then I woke up in that cave, not knowing what I had lost… until you came again. So I'm not afraid, you see," Goku told him earnestly. "You _will_ be back. Even if I have to wait another five hundred years. As long as it takes…"

Sanzo barely heard him anymore, his gaze drifting back to the magnificent setting sun. He was aware of his human voice somehow making a last effort to speak – he thought he heard himself say "_Bakazaru_…" one more time, perhaps. Affectionately. Gratefully.

For the light was calling. It was impossible, and it defied all the laws of science and nature – that the soft orange glow of the setting sun should be intensifying into a dazzling brilliant luminescence of pure white… calling to him, beckoning, embracing him in its pristine, white radiance.

Far, far off, it seemed he heard a last echo… "_Sanzo…_" And the high-pitched, childlike voice was joined by another, and another: one dear and gentle and mild and comforting as always… and the other the low silky voice that had haunted him for more than fifty years. _Aishiteru. _The pure sorrow in that voice was almost enough to stay him. Almost.

But not quite. For now a pair of wise, dear, familiar hands were in front of him, waiting. He heard a voice he thought he would never hear again… calling a name he had almost forgotten.

"Kouryu…" 

He gave a last, wistful sigh.

And Genjo Sanzo was no more.

* * *

XxXxX

* * *

**(­Ruby)**

Goodnight, my angel

Time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Wherever you go

No matter where you are

I will never be far away

**(Amethyst)**

Goodnight, my angel

Now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

And deep inside this ancient heart

You'll always be a part of me

And if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart

There will always be a part of me

**(Ruby/Amethyst)**

Someday we'll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on…

They never die

That how you

And I

Will be

* * *

XxXxX

* * *

He finished piling the earth on the small grave, carefully shaping and patting the surface smooth. He walked around a little bit, and gathered enough wildflowers to make a decent bouquet. He laid the flowers gently in front of the mound. And then he sighed again. 

He leaned back against the tree, drew out his smokes, and lit up. He gazed up to the sky, and it seemed that the sun glared at him.

He grinned, and fished around in his crushed pack until he found the stick. Marlboro. Lighting it from the tip of his own smoke, he set it down on top of the grave.

"There. Are you satisfied, hage bouzu?"

It seemed he heard the echo of a grunt of approval. He almost heard the "'Ch." that accompanied it.

After Goku had opened the door and called him and Hakkai in to witness Sanzo's last moments, everything had seemed to go by in a blur.

The Grand Wake, with nobles and dignitaries and Holy Men from all over paying their respects to the late Toa… the sleepless nights and weary days as he and Hakkai and Goku greeted the visitors and accepted the condolences and offerings and gifts… Like a true-blue rebel, Sanzo had defied Temple laws and customs, choosing to let his family – Gojyo, Goku and Hakkai – preside over his wake, instead of following religious tradition as befitting a Grand Reverend. Even the "period of mourning" was cut short – only two days, despite the deluge of people coming to pay their last respects. Sanzo had been adamant about that. If he'd had his way completely, there would not even have been a wake.

He also left specific instructions – that the ashes of his remains were to be placed in _two_ urns: one to be given over to the Temple, as tradition dictated. But the other, smaller urn would be buried in the family plot.

That had caused a great deal of questions and murmurings. The late Toa had been an orphan, as everybody knew. Kinzan had been his only home. Where was this supposed family plot?

But Hakkai, acting as Sanzo's executor, had stood firm. Sanzo had told him that Gojyo would take care of it. He had also said, when the two friends had talked quietly together, that if Hakkai – and in the unlikely event, Goku – should wish, they could be buried in the same place as well. _Gojyo knows._

Hakkai didn't bother to question Sanzo's wishes. All he cared about was carrying them out.

And so he had handed over Sanzo's ashes, and a small, bulky envelope, without a word. Good old Hakkai. Gojyo wondered if his best friend _knew_, somehow. Maybe someday, when his feelings were no longer so raw, he would confront Hakkai and ask him about it. Maybe.

And Gojyo knew what to do. Without being told. When he had parted ways with Hakkai after the whole business, and after making sure that Goku was okay, which he was, which was fucking unbelievable – that the bakazaru should have borne it all better than any of them… He, Gojyo, had barely spoken a word the whole time; and Hakkai had choked up and wept while reading from his damn book of poems that the hage bouzu had left him. Hakkai himself had insisted on the unusual eulogy, after getting permission from the next Toa. In light of their Divine Mission, the next Grand Reverend had given his full approval.

The words still rang in his head.

_O Captain! my Captain!_

_Our fearful trip is done_

_The ship has weather'd every rack_

_The prize we sought is won…_

When he had parted ways with Hakkai, after promising Goku he would visit in a few weeks, he had opened the envelope. There was no letter. Just the miniature.

But he knew what to do.

* * *

XxXxX

And so here he was, and his task was almost done. Almost. He closed his eyes, willing himself back in time… to that one night that he had held Sanzo in his arms and worshipped him with his body, here in this very spot.

His eyes stung.

His throat burned.

His skin ached.

And his heart… Hell, his heart was a damn traitor. It continued to _beat_, the stupid thing, oblivious to his pain. It continued to pump life-giving blood through his weary body, when he wanted no life at all.

Atooshinjuu.

He flopped down on his back and crossed his arms behind his head and squinted at the sky through the canopy of leaves above him, the scarlet eyes soft and thoughtful.

So many memories…

The first time he had opened his door… starting on the divine mission… the goddamn tragic Homura and Shien and Zeon… the Brat Prince and his Brat Pack and the shock of seeing his own shock mirrored in the face of his enemy… of his brother.

The deluded Kami-sama… the incredibly clueless Hazel and the patient, sad Gato… the endless encounters with youkai… camping out… squeezing in another damn tiny inn… the arguments, the misunderstandings, the crazy moments, the fun times… the road, the endless road…

He sat up abruptly, and pulled out a flask from his jacket. He uncapped it, and took a deep swig, wincing as the spirit burned a trail of fire down his throat. He tipped the bottle and let the amber liquid trickle down to the brown earth.

"Cognac, hage bouzu. The best there is."

And then he laughed, shaking his head. There was nothing funny in particular. He just felt like laughing. He was so damn tired of crying.

He sobered up, and reached inside his jacket once more. The banishing gun. He'd wasted enough time. There was no point in prolonging it – all this goddamn cornball bullshit of talking to nothing, "smoking" with nothing, "drinking" with someone who was no longer there.

No. It was time to finish it, right now. He refused to wallow in grief any longer. He was just so damn _tired_…

He spun the barrel open, checking again. Yep. Just the one. The last bullet he'd so adamantly refused to let Sanzo fire so long ago, right here in this precise place.

_God, bouzu… I miss you so… and it's only been a few days. How do you expect me to go on the next hundred or so years without you? You had no right making me promise. Damn you._

He spun the barrel shut, and heard the sharp click with a satisfied, grim smile. He pulled back the safety catch. He gave a mocking salute, the red eyes almost ink-black with pain.

_O Captain, my Captain…_

BANG!

* * *

XxXxX

If tears could build a stairway

And memories a lane

I'd walk right up to Heaven

And bring you home again.

XxXxX

* * *

**

* * *

A/N:** Haiku by Buson. "Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel)" by Billy Joel. 

Gojyo _does_ say 'Sayonara'. Our modern 'Goodbye' is a contraction of the last words he whispers to Sanzo: "God be with you". (God be wi' ye.)

I know, I know. If you think you've got it bad, just imagine me typing this with a great big box of Kleenex beside me… (T-T)

To whoever kidnapped my SxGxS muses, give them back, dammit! I'm sick of writing this sad shit… XD

As far as my research goes, the funeral and wake services described are accurate.

And if you think the torture is over, I ain't done with you yet. The last chapter/epilogue to follow… (PS. To Darkness: Apparently, 'erogappa' is the proper _romanization_. It's still 'kappa' when it stands alone, but coupled with the adjective you have erogappa. Just like bakazaru instead of baka saru. shrugs)

To interested parties, here is the full Walt Whitman tribute to Abraham Lincoln.

**O Captain! My Captain!**

1

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

2

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

3

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.


	8. Chapter 7

October 26, 2005

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"The heart is the only broken instrument that works." – T E Kalem

* * *

XxXxX

Shit.

You think I blew my brains out?

Hah. I wish. If only I could have…

But I made a promise, dammit, and I'm keeping it if it kills me. I've _kept_ it. I can do no less for him… him, who was all to me. He still is.

Nah… I fired overhead, straight up into the cerulean blue sky. I flipped my third finger to Tenkai, so to speak. FUCK YOU. Heh. Yeah… Damn all the gods anyway. All they do is watch.

I suppose it was another thing as well – a tribute from a soldier to his general, if I may say so.

_O Captain, my Captain…_

You know, more of that cornball bullshit, the pointless private ritual I carried out, and tried to comfort myself with that day that I surrendered my corrupt monk to the earth.

But I'm still here. Seventy years later. I'm still here, dammit all… damn bouzu must have set an army of guardian angels to watch over me and make sure I keep my promise.

Because, heck – I absolutely went wild for a while, after he was gone. I was a walking deathwish. I smoked like a chimney, I drank myself to the gutter, woke up, and drank some more. I picked fights in bars, relishing the brawls I always started… But somehow I just couldn't seem to _die._ Heh. It figures – court the Grim Reaper like an obsessed, passionate lover and he shuns you. Run away and He'll give chase like all hell.

Or maybe it really IS tough to kill a stupid cockroach… I dunno… what do you think?

In those early years, I barely kept my second promise to Sanzo, but I somehow managed to drag myself up the damn mountains to make sure the monkey hadn't gone ape-shit. Ironically… the bakazaru somehow ended up taking care of _me_ when I showed up every few weeks – bruised, battered, and hungover like hell.

Let me tell you, it was a damn dark world for a while.

Eventually though… slowly… I got used to it. I learned not to expect the flash of cream-gold robes, the blinding dazzle of sunkissed hair and cool amethyst eyes waiting to greet me. I learned to live without his voice cursing me… without his eyes caressing me… without his soul reaching out to me from piercing purple depths.

I learned, somehow, to stop crying myself to sleep every night… with that voice… that voice beautiful enough to embrace… echoing in my head, in my heart, in my soul. _Aishiteru…_

I think maybe if he hadn't said it, if _I_ hadn't said it, I would have gone mad. I would have ceased to breathe at the same moment. I would have died with him that day.

But I _do_ have that… He gave me his declaration, and gave me permission to make my own, and I finally got to finish my sentence, after all. Hell – he finished it for me, didn't he? My Sanzo…

It's been seventy years like I've said, and the longing is still there, would you believe… But now I feed it with memories. I quench it with occasional drunken visits to 'our spot'. Can you blame me? I no longer have the bittersweet option of my tortured visits to Kinzan.

In fact I lost all heart to return to the blasted Temple, not five years after Sanzo passed away, promises or no promises. So I guess it was a gift from Heaven that I didn't need to, anymore, after a while.

Because by this time I had moved in with Hakkai, Sakura having died a year and a half after Sanzo. It was painful for Hakkai, as you might expect; and he declared, during one of our drinking sessions at my apartment, that he was never going to get married again. He'd had two loves in his life, and he'd been granted the chance to marry one of them and live his life with her and have children with her… It was enough for him.

Shortly after Hakkai left their family home to his youngest, I gave up my small bachelor pad, and we moved in together, just like the old times. Hakkai instead focused his life on his children and grandkids, and on his lifelong dream – and he established an orphanage. Goku moved in with us soon after.

Yes indeed – at first, after we had completed the Divine Mission, all four of us were scattered like leaves to the wind, as we each sought our own places in the sun. And yet, when the sun faded… when the captain of our ikkou passed away, we the remaining three gathered together, after all. It was like our foundation had been shattered… the force that kept us strong collapsed, and we sought each other in the end to somehow try to make sense of it… to somehow give each other the strength to survive, to go on… to find meaning again after that dazzling light that had been our anchor and our guide had faded away.

And so Hakkai had his orphanage, and Goku had his travels – it's a damn miracle how the gold card continues without conking out on its limit. And me… well.

You can probably guess there was one promise I just couldn't keep.

Not that I didn't try, mind you, after a while… when I felt somehow that I had gathered back enough of myself to try again. I mean – a man's _got_ to have reason to go on living… a reason to get up in the morning, a reason for sleep and rest to be sweet at night.

Yeah right… The loneliness drove me back to my bachelor ways, all right. Make no mistake – Sha Gojyo has always been, and will always be, _the_ heartbreaker. I could have had my pick of any number of "nice young women"… and some not-so-nice ones. Heh.

Only problem was, although I could offer them my body… lose myself in a pair of warm arms for a while… I just didn't have a heart left to give.

Pathetic, huh? But _that's the way it is…_ My heart rests someplace in a woods, under the shade of a great tree. It's waiting for me.

And I'll tell you something else. It's almost time for me to go.

By human standards, I would be around fifty or so. As far as I know I'm supposed to have another seventy years, by the lifespan of a halfbreed. But lately it's been getting harder and harder to get up in the morning. It's been getting harder and harder to summon up the will to face another day. All I want to do is sleep.

Green Eyes has noticed, and is worrying his butt off, but I refuse to see a doctor. What would be the point in prolonging it? And it doesn't matter whatever the diagnosis is, anyway. Cancer? A strange half-breed disease? It doesn't matter. I don't want the extra year, or the few months. I've lived my life, the way I chose, and I was happy, for whatever it was worth. _I'm happy._

Because my best friend has found fulfillment and meaning and joy beyond his wildest dreams… in stark contrast to the empty, bleeding, gutted shell I almost stumbled over, that rainy night that we met.

Because the bakazaru is enjoying himself with his never-ending travels, and has kept the Seiten Taisei in control, after all. Goku has kept his innocence intact, and his hope is so pure that I almost find myself hoping too…

Because I was part of the Divine Mission, the legendary "Journey To The West", and I take pride in the invaluable part I played in that drama, for what it now means to the world that I love.

I am happy because I have had wine, and women, and song… and cigarettes and sake with my hage bouzu… Hell, yeah – I'm happy.

I'm happy to have held my corrupt monk in my arms, to have made love to him, to have kissed those harsh cynical lips, to have stroked that golden, shimmering hair, to have caressed that milky white skin, to have gazed into those amazing violet eyes… and at the last to have heard that beautiful, beautiful voice telling me what I had waited sixty years, my whole lifetime to hear… _Aishiteru._

You have to admit, I've been a blessed kappa…. one hell of a lucky sonuvademon, so to speak.

Did I ever _talk _to Hakkai? Nah. But then I don't think I ever needed to, anyway. That guy _gets_ me. He always did. Sometimes I think he knows what I'm thinking even before I've thought it. I have no doubt about it, my best friend _knows._

All that is left now is to tell him where to scatter my ashes to help the wildflowers grow… and where to bury the small urn and the miniature.

So what else is left to say? Just that all these years, seventy long, exhausting years, not a day went by that I didn't miss him. I miss him still. I long for him still. I ache for him with every breath I take. I dream of him almost every night.

It's true. Death had no power over it. The longing still consumes me, my yearning for him eats me up inside. I pine for him. _Sanzo_. God, how I still love him.

And soon… we will be together, side by side in the cold, dark earth. Together forever. I can't wait.

But before I go, let me tell you a secret… something that my corrupt monk told me long ago, when I was sobbing like a fool on his lap. He stroked my hair oh-so-gently, and he whispered: "_Do not fear death. If we do not fear it, it casts its eye on us gently and guides us to infinity._"

And that's enough for me.

* * *

XxXxX

"We loved with a love that was more than love." – Edgar Allan Poe

XxXxX

* * *


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue

* * *

**

"True love stories never have endings." – Richard Bach

* * *

XxXxX

_I've missed you. God how I've missed you…_

_What the fuck took you so long?_

_Aishiteru, Beautiful… I love you so…_

_'Ch… I love you more._

XxXxX

* * *

Across the years I will walk with you

In deep green forests, on shores of sand

And when our time on earth is through

In Heaven, too, you will have my hand.

Robert Sexton

XxXxX

* * *

-owari-

* * *

Japanese mini-glossary:

Aishiteru: I love you

Arigatou Gozaimasu: Thank you very much

Atooishinjuu: lover's suicide

Bouzu: monk

Bakazaru: stupid monkey

Baka: idiot, moron, stupid

Daijobou: Are you alright

Damare: Shut up/ Be quiet

Erogappa: Horny water imp

Hage bouzu: bald monk

Hai: Yes

Iie: No

Jamatane: see you soon

Kanzeon Bosatsu: Goddess of Mercy

K'so: Japanese swear word

Nani: What

Urusei: shut up

Sankyuu: "Thank you", literally

Sensei: teacher, master

Seiten Taisei: Great Sage Equal to Heaven (Goku's true form)

Sonna: (in this context): "No way!"

Sumimasen: I'm sorry/excuse me

Yamero: Stop it


End file.
